Page 123 of Hockey Bois
“Alexander Ovechkin doesnotown the Rocket Richard Trophy.”
“Possession is like nine-tenths of the law, so he kind of does.”
There was a dismissive grunt, barely more than a percussive puff of air, but Brady didn’t protest. “So, you in? We stop by tomorrow after our morning games, grab some food, then meet up with everyone for the evening games?”
The server dropped off their ramen, buying Nick time to consider.
“Yeah,” he said slowly, “I’m game.” A pause. “Do you think anyone else would want to go?”
Brady’s face twitched briefly, though his expression immediately smoothed around the edges. “We could ask,” he said dismissively, as though doubting the twelve other people who’d traveled with them, all of them hockey players and hockey fans, would want to go to some place as obscure as the Hockey Hall of Fame.
“Right,” Nick said under his breath, then dug into his food. He let himself be distracted by the meal and the time ticking by to their first game of the tournament. He didn’t say much, and Brady seemed content to enjoy his company and the food.
Nick thought he did a good job of remaining calm and aloof, though inside he was struggling to keep it together. This—whatever it was going on between them—was nice. The time, the attention, it was a glimpse into the type of relationship he’d wanted with Brady since the first week they’d met. (Well… maybe not thefirstweek.) It wasn’t a romantic or sexual relationship, but it bordered on it, like it could dip into those strange new realms at any moment if either of them wanted it to.
At least that was the veneer, the shiny outside coating that hid the truth.
It felt like the PA tournament. A balloon filling with potential, only to burst and leave their friendship shattered in its wake.
They’d beenso goodbefore that trip, and they’d managed to recover and get back on solid ground afterward. Nick wasn’t sure he could handle riding that emotional seesaw again. And if they had a repeat of PA, it would completely sour Nick’s view of tournaments. Whatever had made Brady jump ship then hadn’t gone away; his issues were still there, whatever they were.
Maybe if all this were happening back home where events felt more real, less exotic and special. Somewhere that didn’t give them any excuses to take things out of context and then ignore them when they got back.
He snorted, realizing he’d called Toronto “exotic.”
“Hmm?” Brady asked around a mouthful of noodles.
“Nothing,” Nick said with a dismissive wave and a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m an idiot, that’s all.”
Brady nodded in easy acceptance.Yes, sometimes you’re an idiot, nothing unusual there.
If nothing else, they were on the same page aboutsomething.
*
“I’ve never been blown out so badly in my life,” GG grumbled on his way back into the locker room.
“That’s what he said,” Young Greg and Lexi said at the same time, earning boos and groans.
“Don’t you mean ‘she’?” Donno asked.
“Gender inclusivity,” Lexi said.
“Don’t want to make Gail angry or uncomfortable,” Young Greg added. “and I have zero issues offending the rest of you.”
“You’re a swell guy, you know that?” Mags said.
Young Greg gave him the finger as soon as Mags turned his back.
“Well, I’m still pissed about this loss,” GG said, every inch a crotchety old man. GG rarely showed his age—he was old enough that he had a son graduating from college, giving him a solid decade on the rest of the team—but his sullen expression, his arms crossed in front of his chest, and his general annoyance that anyone could find anything funny about their situation, aged him a good two decades. “We get our asses handed to us nine to two, and y’all wanna laugh it off?”
“Laugh or you cry,” Young Greg countered.
“Also that team is from fucking Michigan,” Lexi whined. “They come from a state that only has Winter and Less Winter as seasons. Ofcoursethey handed our Maryland asses to us at a winter sport.”
GG’s face went red. He opened his mouth, and Nick almost looked forward to whatever putrid vile he was about to unleash upon Young Greg and Lexi (and anyone who tried to defend them). If nothing else, it would make him feel better about himself at their expense,becausehe’d been on the ice for five of those nine goals.
Luckily (or unluckily), Benns intervened. “They played a better game. They deserved to win,” he said sternly. “We were too busy watching the puck and hoping someone else would do the work for us. Someone else did, and they won because of it. We’re a little shell-shocked from being in the Great White North, and I think it’s inevitable that we’d have a bad game. It was our first game. We adjust, we pick it up, and tomorrow morning we come in ready to change the story.”
